


Weakness and Violence

by LemonadeRenegade



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Angst and Humor, Explicit Language, Injured Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Sassy Peter Hale, Scott is a Good Friend, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:02:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22680667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonadeRenegade/pseuds/LemonadeRenegade
Summary: Human members of packs are being targeted, and Derek takes it upon himself to protect Stiles. Easier said than done.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 16
Kudos: 90





	1. Swooping is Bad

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this stewing for a while now, and figured I may as well try another chaptered fic. The tags will be added to, and the rating will probably change too, I’m a post-as-I-go person, so I’m not really sure where this story wants to go yet. It’ll be an adventure for all of us! 
> 
> Thanks so much to every single kind soul who bothers to read, comment or leave kudos here. You’re all awesome and I appreciate your support so so much! :D

Derek watched Stiles from the window of the Camaro, somehow finding him both ridiculous and hilarious. A bird had swooped him in the park, and instead of just running away, Stiles had tried to fight it off with waving arms and angry curses. Typical Stiles Stilinski though, fighting instead of running. He was gonna get himself killed one day. 

Derek shook the maudlin thoughts away and focussed on the impromptu dance Stiles was doing in the park. He looked like a lunatic. Wow, he was such a weird kid. The wolf admonished himself, Stiles wasn’t a kid. He hadn’t been for a while now, and if he still really thought of him as one, he had some problems. 

He smiled at the picture Stiles made. Stiles’ red t-shirt was bunching above the waistband of his jeans thanks to his wild movements, and Derek could see a strip of pale skin that screamed at him to touch. Damnit. He shook his head to dislodge his stupid thoughts and focussed on why he was watching Stiles like a creeper. A recent attack on a neighbouring pack had led them to believe there was a threat against any human members of werewolf packs in the area. Seemed someone, or something, had a bone to pick with packs who accepted humans. He shook his head again, thinking how stupid someone must be to be so speciesist. Many weres started life as human, so it was ridiculous to think of humanity as less than anything. People were people, according to Derek. Some were good, others were shit, no matter what skills or powers they had when the moon was full or the tide was in. Fuckin’ people. 

Stiles managed to flail enough for the bird to lose interest, and continued walking down what looked like a bike lane. He had no idea what the human was up to, but he knew it was likely to get them both into trouble. With Siles, trouble was pretty much a given. 

As Stiles went further and further down the path, Derek realised he’d have to start following on foot. He stepped out of the car, and locked it behind him as he strode toward the bike path his wayward human had wandered down. Whatever Stiles was doing, he was doing it alone. He had none of the pack with him, and Derek didn’t scent any of them nearby. He shook his head frustratedly, if a little fondly. Idiot. 

He heard commotion up ahead at the same time he could smell Stiles’ fear, and sprinted the rest of the way, stealth be damned. 

Stiles was sitting in a heap on the edge of the path, holding his hand up to the side of his face. Derek could smell the blood before he could see it. 

“Stiles! Are you okay? What happened?” He knelt beside his favourite pack member and grabbed his hand to inspect the wound. A small cut, bleeding profusely, because head wounds bleed like a bitch. 

“Derek? What the fuck?!” He sounded alert and okay, and Derek’s panic ebbed a little. 

“What was it?!” Derek growled, his Alpha eyes glowing as he glared around them. Trees. More trees. Some grass. 

“What kind of psycho bird leaves and then comes back like that? A bird attacked me in the park, and it just came back for me! Like it wanted to get me while I was alone! What the fuck, man?! I was just innocently walking, and it attacked me for no reason! It’s not even spring!” 

“All birds aren’t born just in spring you know. They can nest at other times. It’s bleeding a lot but it doesn’t look too bad. Here.” With no enemy nearby, Derek took off his shirt and pressed it to the wound, the white soaking red with blood. 

“Ew! Sweat on my open wound!” 

“I don’t sweat from the stomach on a mild day, Stiles. It’s fine.” 

“I bet you do. I bet you're constantly sweaty and you… ugh… no, don’t think that, Stiles!” Stiles’ eyes were scrunched up, trying to unsee an image that had him reeking of arousal.

Derek swallowed loudly and tried for casual. “Really? Bleeding from the head and you can still be a thirsty creep. Typical.”

“Hey! I’m injured! Maybe I’m loopy from blood loss, give me a break!” Stiles grabbed the shirt from Derek, still pressing it to his head. “I can do it. What are you doing here anyway?”

“Uh, I was walking the trail. It’s nice out, I felt like a walk.” Derek stood up and sniffed the air suspiciously. A smell, out of place. Weird. “What’s that smell?”

“Gee, Fido, I dunno. I’m human with a human nose, remember? Can you carry me home?”

Derek turned back toward him, frowning. “Seriously? You can walk, Stiles. You were pecked by a small bird, not wounded in battle.” 

“Hey! I’m delicate! And human! Don't you care?”Stiles winced as he stood up and removed the shirt from his face. “Is it still bleeding? Man it’s sticky.”

“Seems to have stopped for now. The shirt worked, you’re welcome. C’mon, I’m parked back that way.” 

The trees seemed much more ominous on the way back, and Stiles insisted on having a helping hand to guide his steps. Derek had a hand on his bicep, all but dragging him back toward the Camaro. He felt the weight of Stiles’ body as he listed against him, and turned to grab his shoulders. 

“You doing okay?” Derek was worried. Stiles lived to complain, but he was usually fine with blood. Even his own. 

Stiles didn’t answer, he instead passed out in Derek’s arms, the wound somehow closing instantly and his blood disappearing from his face, his hand, and the shirt. What the fuck. Something was very, very wrong. 

As Derek picked the human up and ran back to the car with him in a bridal carry a conscious Stiles would love, Derek cursed himself. Not only did he not investigate the strange smell further, but he didn’t even think to ask why Stiles had been out on the path in the first place. 


	2. Talking to Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, sorry! I'll make sure to add a third chapter in the next few days to make up for it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! And for any subs, kudos, or comments! :D
> 
> ...Hey Jluis, thanks for the first comment on this fic, you can tell where your comment inspired me in this chapter! :)

Stiles was completely, eerily still. There was no sign at all he’d been injured, yet he wasn’t waking up. His breath was steady, if slow, and his heart continued to beat like it would during sleep. Derek had never felt so useless. 

He placed the human gently onto his own bed, and turned to Peter as he heard him enter the room. He’d called him from the car. Everyone else had been called too, but Peter had been the closest.

“So he’s just completely unresponsive?” Peter strode toward the bed, all business.

“Yeah, like he’s asleep but won’t wake up. The wound is gone, the blood is gone. How does that happen? And he said the bird came back, like he was targeted.” 

Peter frowned and tilted Stiles’ head to the side a little. He put his face very close to where the wound had been, and inhaled. “Hmm. I don’t even smell any blood. So it wasn’t just a bird.”

“If it followed him, and attacked him when he was alone, it wasn’t a normal bird. But it looked normal.”

“What kind of bird was it?” Peter brushed the hair from Stiles’ forehead gently and straightened up, pulling his phone out of his back pocket.

“A regular looking bird? Small. Dark, but shiny. Just a bird.”

“What colour was the beak? Did it have any markings? What sound did it make?” Peter was scrolling through something on his phone, spitting question after question. 

“I don’t know! It was a bird, smaller than a crow, bigger than a finch. It was black, but it was shiny, and it wasn’t a black shine. Iridescent? It had a sharp, black beak. What could it have been? It wasn’t just a bird!”

Scott burst through the doorway at that exact moment. “Was it a werebird? Are werebirds a thing?” 

Peter barely looked up from his phone. “No.” He stepped towards his nephew and shoved his phone under his nose. “Could it have been this?” 

The bird looked very similar. It could be… “Pretty close. That might be it, but there are so many birds.”

Peter took the phone back and began reading, skimming through apparent pages he’d found. “European starling. Common. Unlawfully introduced to the US in the nineteenth century. They were once considered the messengers of the gods. Oh. They usually fly in large flocks, they’re very social. This definitely wasn’t a normal bird.”

“No shit! What do we do?! We can’t find every starling in Beacon Hills and question it!” Scott was clearly very worried, and what little logic he had was disappearing fast. 

“Why not?” Peter raised his eyebrows. 

“Seriously?! Werebirds can't exist, but you think interviewing birds like they're witnesses to a crime is perfectly okay?!”

Peter rolled his eyes so hard he was practically a slot machine. “Magic, Scott. We can use magic.”

Scott gestured wildly to his best friend on the bed. “But our best magic user is right there, unconscious and possibly dying!” 

Derek flashed his red eyes at Scott, and got a matching glow in response. Scott’s breathing slowed and he calmed down enough to nod at Derek, acknowledging their pack bond grounding him somewhat. Having two alphas was awkward at first, but now they managed fine. 

Peter pushed between them and gestured at the door. “When it comes to magic, anything Stiles can do, Lydia can also do. Maybe not as intuitively, maybe not as well, but she can manage it. She's almost here.” 

Derek stroked the back of Stiles’ hand and murmured, almost to himself. “Talking to birds. How hard can it be?” 

  
  



	3. As The Crow Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek sets out to talk to some birds, Mission Save Stiles still in full effect!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CRAP, I AM SO SORRY IT'S TAKEN SO LONG TO POST A NEW CHAPTER! I've been working my butt off (I work for a charity) and my time off due to the 'rona amounted to a week and a half. I didn't have nearly the time I thought I'd have, but I'm safe and still have a job so I've never been more grateful. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone still invested in this story, and I hope everyone is keeping safe and sane in these crazy times.

“It's ironic, isn't it? What we're doing for Stiles… He'd love this. It's a shame he's not here to witness it.” Lydia frowned, but knelt on the leaf litter in the preserve and continued unpacking the items she needed for the spell. Efficient. Focussed. They were lucky to have her. 

Alison, Malia and Liam were with Stiles, because Derek couldn't handle watching him motionless in his bed. Not at all how he'd imagined to get the human into his bed. He let that thought go quickly. One thing at a time. He'd sent Boyd and Erica back to the scene of the crime, hoping they could sniff out something he'd missed. Scott was talking to Deaton, but nobody would hold their breath on that front.

Derek turned his head to look at his uncle, who was still examining the screen of his phone. He assumed Peter was reading up on everything about starlings ever written. He knew the older man wouldn't rest until Stiles was back with them, safe and his usual snarky self. There was a strange connection between Stiles and Peter, they just got each other. Derek would be lying if he said he wasn't a little jealous sometimes. for a few months after Stiles had graduated high school Derek had worried his uncle was going to sweep Stiles off his feet. But they were too similar to work that way.  _ Put two assholes together and you get twice the shit, _ Laura would often joke. Derek quickly pushed that thought away, too. 

Lydia tilted her head to the sky, the canopy of the trees letting through little light, but enough to see by. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, whispering something Derek couldn't understand. Probably Latin. The mortar and pestle she held in her hands smelled worse with each passing moment. She began grinding the random, and disgusting, mixture of herbs and creature bits into dust, as her voice grew steadily louder. 

Peter moved to stand beside him and Derek moved his eyebrows in askance. Peter shrugged. Looked like it was up to this spell. 

Lydia’s voice cut off suddenly and she gracefully placed the smoking mortar and pestle back on the ground. 

“That should do it.” She tightened her ponytail. “Now, where’s a bird...”

A rustling sound overhead made them all look up into the trees. A large crow landed on a branch nearby.

“What are you ugly things looking at?! Toss me some food or leave!” It squawked. 

Derek flashed his eyes at the bird, but it was Lydia who spoke. “We’re looking at a very rude crow! You won’t get anything with that attitude!”

Leaves and a feather fell to the ground as the crow startled, then it laughed loudly. “Who says I'm a crow? I'm talking to you, aren't I?”

“Actually,  _ we're _ the ones talking to  _ you. _ We have some questions. Answers will reap rewards, otherwise we'll find another bird. I'm sure there's no shortage of them around here.” Lydia was not to be messed with at the best of times, but Derek knew this was personal for her. They may have broken up a long time ago, but she and Stiles loved each other. It just wasn't a romantic love, not anymore. 

“I like you! Okay, what's your question?” The bird spoke in a strange accent that reminded Derek of something.

“A friend of ours, he was attacked by a small bird, a starling. A few hours ago, it followed him, it was intentional.” She swallows loudly. “And now he won't wake up.” 

“The shiny bastards, black beak? Think they're cute?”

“Yes.” Peter nodded. 

“Where?” The crow seemed smart. Derek decided to never judge bird behaviour again. 

“Over by the bike trail, at the park.” 

“Hmm. I'll check, ask around. Where can I find you? For my reward?” The bird’s eyes were beady, and looked greedy. 

Derek gave a description of his apartment building, and the crow flew off. 

“That was weird.” Peter said. 

Derek sighed. “Yep, it was a crow speaking English.”

“Well, I think we were actually speaking crow.” Lydia picked up her spell items and handed them to Peter. “Carry these, will you?”

Peter's eyes rolled hard, and he smirked, “Of course, milady. Always happy to help, and prove I'm reformed, not a problem here at all!” 

Derek snorted as it was Lydia’s turn to roll her eyes.

As they trudged back to the car, Peter made a sound of uncertainty in the back of his throat. “What I meant by it being weird was that it was a crow. Crows are considered omens, and there's a lot of mystical folklore about them. They also aren't common around Beacon Hills, due to the Nemeton. They tend to stay clear. It just seemed...convenient, is all.” 

Derek frowned. “Convenient how? Friend or foe?”

Peter shrugged, “I guess we'll see.” 

  
  
  
  



End file.
